


You are what you love, not who loves you (Ryden)

by twin_skeleton



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 22:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10750953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twin_skeleton/pseuds/twin_skeleton
Summary: Title based off Save Rock And Roll by Fall Out Boy.Ryan's father dies. Brendon comforts him (sorry I suck at summaries)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this is shit, this is like my first Ryden fic I've ever written. Also, just because I've portrayed Ryan's father this way, it doesn't mean he was actually like this, he was probably a nice guy, I just did this to fit the story. Side note: thishluldnt be triggering, but if you know someone who is an alcoholic and is easily affected by things like this, perhaps don't read it. I wouldn't know if it's considered triggering, but I wouldn't want to find out the hard way. Also sorry the chapters are very short.

It was sometime after Ryan Ross' twenty-second birthday and his life was already beginning to change dramatically. He didn't notice anything was out of place in his life at first, maybe a few things were different here and there, but nothing that was strictly out of the ordinary. To put it this way, Ryan led a pretty good and normal life. He had great friends and he even played in a famous band called Panic! At The Disco, so it didn't come as much of a surprise when he didn't seem to take it into account that something in his life was wrong. To be fair to Ryan, it wasn't technically in his life as such, but, more precisely, his father's. Now you see, Ryan still lived in his parents' house, so it was easier for him to notice these things. Or so you'd think, but in fact Ryan was, at the best of times, a pretty oblivious person, so when Panic! At The Disco were touring for their album Pretty. Odd. which had been released a couple of months prior to all of this, it came as no surprise that Ryan, who, at this particular time, was away from home, didn't notice anything wrong. It was only when the tours had finished and Ryan could go back home that he noticed something was wrong.

At this point, you're probably wondering what it was that was wrong with Ryan's father. Well, I'll elaborate.

A couple of days after Ryan had got home from touring, he began to notice something was... off. Not 'off' as in something had gone 'old', as it were, but 'off' as in something wasn't right. Ryan may have been oblivious but he definitely wasn't stupid. He first noticed this so-called 'problem' one day when his father was, incidentally, out on a business trip and his mother at this time was, too, out, staying at a friend's house, so both of these things made Ryan unable to ask either of his parents about what he saw in the fridge before him. Vodka. About fifteen glass bottles filled to the top with vodka. Ryan would've thought nothing of it, if only there hadn't been so many of them, but there were fifteen full bottles of vodka. Of course something like this would confuse anyone, so it didn't come as much of a surprise when Ryan was relatively shocked. Especially considering the fact that Ryan's parents didn't drink vodka, and Ryan knew he certainly didn't.

When Ryan's father had first come home from his business trip, Ryan's mother was still visiting her friend, so Ryan started to get a bit worried the next time he looked in the fridge and three of the bottles were gone. Ryan kept trying to tell himself that his father must've given them to someone or something, because he wasn't going to let himself think that his father had drunk three whole bottles of vodka himself. His worries were, unfortunately, confirmed later when he went into the bathroom and found one of the empty bottles lying horizontally next to the bin with the other two inside it.

"Dad," Ryan said carefully some hours later, when he had finally had enough of mentally debating the matter with himself.  
"What is it?" Ryan's dad mumbled, not looking up from the TV screen, despite it being an advert he was watching.  
"I don't really know how to say this, so I'm gonna come straight to the point," Ryan sat down on the sofa, far away from his father, and faced him.  
"Did you drink three whole bottles of vodka to yourself this afternoon?" Ryan sighed and mentally prepared himself for what was about to come, whether it be shouting or just simply a look of despair. Unfortunately, Ryan got the former, which, if he knew his father well enough, it meant he was drunk. So very drunk.  
"What the FUCK did you say to me? What's it got to do with you how much I fucking drink?" His dad was full-on shouting by the end.  
"Get out! Get out of my house now, you pathetic excuse for a son! I wish your mother had gone through with that abortion she wanted so I wouldn't have to put up with your non-stop bullshit!" Upon hearing this, Ryan just got up and left without saying a word. He had no idea where he'd go, but he left anyway.

He'd managed to make his way to a park a couple miles away from his house when he collapsed on a bench and just sat there with his head in his hands. So his dad had been drinking, and he had drunk three full bottles of vodka in about half a day. He sat contemplating everything for a while, until he was pulled out of his thoughts when his phone started buzzing in his pocket. For a second, he thought it was his father calling to apologise, but then he read the caller ID. Brendon Urie. He answered the phone and Brendon started talking before Ryan could say anything.  
"Hey, what's up Ryan? The guys and I are gonna get a drink down at a bar somewhere, wanna join us?" There was something about Brendon's cheerful voice that finally made Ryan crack.  
"Ryan, what's wrong? What happened?" Brendon had somehow gone from happy and excited to concerned in a matter of seconds.  
"Can you please come and get me?" Ryan sniffed, attempting to wipe his eyes, "I'll send you my location, I just really need to talk to someone right now."  
"Yeah sure thing man, I'll be right there." Brendon replied, and then hung up, leaving Ryan alone with his thoughts once more.

A couple of minutes later, Ryan heard someone calling his name, and looked up to see his best friend approaching him.  
"Hey Ryan," Brendon said, sitting next to Ryan on the cold wooden bench, "what's wrong." Ryan looked up at his friend and tears welled up in his eyes again. It wasn't as though his father shouting at him when he was in a drunken stupor was anything new, it was just the fact that his dad had seemed so much more meaningful when he said it, especially since the insults were much more harsh than usual.  
"Well," Ryan began, "I had an argument with my dad again," he wiped his eyes with his sleeves, "but this time it was much worse. You see, the other day, I found fifteen - literally fifteen, I'm not kidding - bottles of vodka in the fridge at home, and that's strange enough; also this was when my mum wasn't in so there's no way she could've known. So earlier today I went back to the fridge and there were three gone, and I thought, I dunno, maybe he had given them away or something, but I found all the empty bottles in the bathroom, one on the floor and two in the bin. I went down to talk to him about it later on but he just blew up at me. I mean, he normally does but he kept hurling terrible insults at me. I know he does that a lot too, but these ones were really hurtful. He said things like 'you're a waste of space, I wish you had never been born' and all the rest." Ryan sniffed at the end and just stared at the ground saying nothing. Brendon put his arm around Ryan's shoulders and slid along the bench so that the small gap between the two of them was closed.  
"Don't worry about it Ry, I'm sure he didn't mean especially if he was drunk." Brendon said softly in an attempt to comfort his best friend.  
"Well whether he meant it or not, it really fucking hurt." Ryan wiped his eyes with his jacket sleeve and leaned his head on Brendon's shoulder.

Although he refused to admit it to himself, Ryan loved Brendon, he had done ever since the day he met him, and so of course having Brendon's arm around him and sitting so his head was leaning on Brendon's shoulder meant more to him than it probably should've done.

Ages seemed to pass, although in reality it was probably only a couple of minutes, and the sun was beginning to set, casting a deep purpley-orange glow across the city.  
"It's late, you should get going." Ryan mumbled, "thank you for being here for me, it means a lot." Brendon turned to look at Ryan.  
"Ryan, you don't need to thank me. You're my best friend, this is what I'm here for." Brendon wrapped both his arms around his friend before he could say anything else.  
"Also," Brendon continued, "you're staying at my house tonight, no questions.  
"But-" Ryan started but was cut off by Brendon.  
"You're not gonna go home are you?" He said, pulling away and looking Ryan in the face. Ryan shook his head.  
"And you'd hardly expect me to let you sleep on the streets tonight," Brendon continued, "would you?" Ryan shook his head again.  
"Good. So, you're staying at my house tonight. And you wouldn't be imposing if that's what you were thinking or going to say because I live on my own in a two-bedroom house, so there's nothing for you to worry about." He stood up, Ryan following suit, and made his way to the carpark where his car had been abandoned.

The two of them got to Brendon's car and got in without either of them saying a word. Ryan just sat in the passenger seat silently, thinking about things and completely zoned out, so when Brendon spoke, he was suddenly brought back to reality.  
"I know you'd probably rather not talk about it, but, what did your mum say? Y'know, about... what happened..." Brendon trailed off. He knew Ryan would understand what he meant instantly. Ryan just looked at him, eyes full of sadness.  
"She doesn't even know," Ryan replied, barely audible, "she's been away staying with a friend for about two weeks and I can't bring myself to tell her, not whilst she's on holiday, and especially not by phone. I need to tell her in person. Also, she did know about the way... the way he treated me when he was drunk. For some reason he only ever took it out on me..." Ryan sighed and stared down at his hands, saying nothing else. Brendon reached over and rubbed his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, and a ghost of a smile appeared on Ryan's face.

When they arrived at Brendon's house later, Brendon walked in and flopped down in the sofa. Ryan sat down next to him, with a lot less force, and just sat there, once again staring at his hands, not really knowing what to do.  
"Are you sure I'm not imposing?" Ryan asked eventually, with an unusual hint of shyness in his voice.  
"Ryan Ross, look at me," Brendon said, putting both of his hands on Ryan's shoulders and turning him so they were facing, "I promise you you're not imposing. For a start, you're not going to go home if I don't let you stay, and for a second thing, I actually like having you here, even if you are... upset... about something." This answer was good enough for Ryan because he managed to crack the smallest smile. The fact that Brendon liked his company meant a lot to him.  
"Thank you," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon tries to comfort Ryan after he and his father have an argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is really short

To take Ryan's mind off things, Brendon had suggested that they watch 'a couple' of films that night, obviously 'a couple' turning out to be five, so by the time they turned the final film off, it was nearing five in the morning. It had worked to take Ryan's mind off everything, although he wasn't usually one to do all-nighters, so he wasn't exactly what you can call used to the lack of sleep. But anything was better, at this point, than him dwelling on what had happened between him and his father. When the ending credits were rolling on their fifth film, Brendon looked at Ryan and realised he had fallen asleep there, so he turned the film off. He was in half a mind to wake the sleeping Ryan so he could get into bed because Brendon knew, from his own experience, that sleeping on his sofa caused you to ache all over in the morning. The other half of him was saying, however, to leave Ryan on the sofa because he, like most other people probably, Brendon assumed, looked so peaceful sleeping. His mental debate was concluded when Ryan woke up on his own accord.  
"What time is it?" He mumbled from his place on the sofa.  
"Almost five AM," Brendon answered, "come on, we should probably go to bed. That sofa is hell to sleep on." Ryan got up sleepily and let Brendon lead him to the spare room. He knew his way around but he always thought it politer to let someone lead you somewhere in their house instead of the other way around.

Brendon lent Ryan a pair of tracksuit trousers and a t-shirt to sleep in, both of which were a bit too short on Ryan, but you couldn't tell too easily because he was substantially thinner than Brendon.

Ryan walked into the room that Brendon let him stay in for the night, flopped down on the bed and sighed deeply.  
"You okay?" Brendon, who happened to be passing the room at the time, asked. He walked into the room Ryan was in and sat down on the bed.  
"Sorry. Stupid question."  
"It's okay," Ryan replied. Brendon sighed.  
"Is that bed to your liking, Mr Ross?" Brendon joked, trying to lighten the mood a little.  
"Very much so," Ryan smiled, "why don't you come join me?" When he asked that, Ryan didn't actually except Brendon to agree, so was taken slightly aback when he crawled up next to him and lay down, scooting close to Ryan. Brendon then wrapped his arm around Ryan, who leaned his head on Brendon's shoulder like he did earlier in the park. The pair eventually fell asleep like that, their arms wrapped around one another.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan's mum phones him to find out where he is. (Yeah I can't do summaries)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still sorry if this is bad :')

Ryan waking up with Brendon's arms wrapped around his torso was not something he had expected to happen, to put it simply. Sure, he remembered that the two of them had fallen asleep together (and he sure as hell wasn't gonna complain about it) but he'd either have expected Brendon to have moved, or at least, not have wrapped his arms around him. Ryan didn't have much time appreciating the moment though because his phone suddenly started ringing loudly, causing him to jump violently and Brendon to wake up confused all of a sudden which then caused him to fall off the bed, dragging Ryan with him because he, of course, hadn't had enough time to untangle the two of them. Ryan let out a sort of squeak as he fell off the bed and landed on top of Brendon, who still seemed somewhat confused, pulling the duvet with him. Ryan suddenly rushed up to answer his phone, not looking at who was calling.  
"Hello?" He answered sleepily.  
"Ryan, where are you?" His mum's voice rang down the phone. Ooh shit, Ryan thought when he remembered that his mum was due to arrive home that day. He looked at the time on his phone. 14:27 it displayed. Fuck.  
"I'm sorry, I stayed the night at Brendon's. I didn't really-" he stopped himself. He was going to say 'I didn't really want to be at home after what happened last night' before he remembered his mum didn't know anything about last night.  
"Didn't really what?" She asked him, merely confused.  
"Umm..." Ryan trailed off, "I don't-"  
"Get drunk." Brendon interrupted him, still trying to put the duvet back on the bed, "didn't get drunk last night." Ryan looked over to Brendon and mouthed a silent 'thank you' to him.  
"Oh," his mother said, "I hadn't really worried that you had. But listen, I think there's something wrong with your father he seems-" and that's when Ryan cracked.  
"Mum listen, I can't keep up this façade any longer," 'any longer'? He thought, this only happened yesterday, fucking hell. He was brought back out of his thoughts by his mum saying something to him.  
"What façade? Ryan, what are you talking about?" Ryan audibly sighed into the phone.  
"Look, it's not a matter that we can or that I want to discuss by phone. I need to tell you face-to-face, so come and meet me later at the café on the end of the road. I'll explain everything then. I don't really feel like going home and facing dad, if I'm honest. Also this isn't a conversation we can have in his presence." Ryan sat down on the bed and waited to hear the panic in his mum's voice.  
"What is it? What's happened? Ryan did you do something to him? Is he okay?" His mother replied frantically. At any other time, Ryan would've been slightly hurt that his mum assumed that he did something to his father, but that didn't matter at this point in time.  
"I'll tell you everything later, just meet me in that café - y'know the one I mean - at like half two, I'll be there then." Ryan said hurriedly.  
"Ryan just tell me what's wrong," his mother demanded.  
"I promise I'll tell you later." At this point, Ryan was, understandably, getting more than slightly annoyed with his mum.  
"Ryan Ross, tell me what's wrong with your father, now." She said it more assertively this time. Ryan just sighed into the phone.  
"I'll see you later, mum." He hung up and sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands.  
"You okay, Ry?" Brendon asked, the use of Ryan's nickname comforting him slightly.  
"Yeah," he mumbled, "I guess you gathered the fact that I'm going to have to see her later to explain everything to her." Brendon nodded. Ryan got up from the bed and started to pick up the pile of clothes that were strewn around the floor from where he had left them last night when he'd been (as usual) too lazy to pick them up.  
"I'm just gonna get dressed, I'll be right back," he said. Brendon decided then that he, too, should go and get dressed, when he heard a sudden yell coming from the bathroom where Ryan went and then a loud bang.  
"Are you okay in there?" He asked, knocking on the bathroom door.  
"I just fucking slipped," came the reply. A moment later, the door the bathroom opened, revealing Ryan who was, at this point, clutching the back of his head.  
"How did you manage that?" Brendon asked him, looking somewhat confused.  
"The floor was wet," Ryan replied, "and I didn't see it until it was too late." Ryan walked out of the bathroom and Brendon walked in, but before Ryan could get very far, Brendon called him back.  
"Ryan, I think your head might be bleeding." Ryan turned to face him, eyes widening. When it came to blood - for some reason especially his own - Ryan was, putting it simply, squeamish. So when Brendon told him his head was bleeding, it was safe to say that he freaked out. Whilst Brendon got to work cleaning the blood off the floor - there wasn't that much - Ryan just stood there, visibly shaking. Brendon picked up upon this.  
"It's alright, there wasn't that much. I'll get you some ice for your head in a minute, just hold on." Ryan nodded and sat down, the pain in his head getting stronger, stabbing into his head.

Some minutes later, when Brendon had cleaned the bathroom floor, he went through the freezer in the kitchen in search of some ice for Ryan's head, only to find he didn't have any, so he gave Ryan the next best thing. Frozen meat. The only thing he had had that was big enough was a piece of frozen meat of an unidentifiable kind. He showed it to Ryan who then laughed. Ryan thought it was such a Brendon thing to do. Of course he meant that in an endearing way, though. He had to say though, the pain did subside slightly, even if he now had a slab of meat - wrapped up in cling film, of course - in his hair which was now slightly more than damp, some of the ice having melted into his hair.  
"I think it's okay now, thanks," Ryan said, "shall I put this back in the freezer?"  
"You're not supposed to re-freeze stuff actually, but don't worry about it." Brendon said, "I'll eat it tonight."  
"Okay then," Ryan said, getting up, "I'd better go now, you know I'm supposed to meet my mum in like ten minutes." He ignored the way he swayed slightly as he stood up, heading to the door. What he didn't, or rather, couldn't ignore was the wave of dizziness that suddenly washed over him. He sat back down on the sofa and put his head in his knees and shut his eyes.

Brendon walked back into his sitting-room and saw Ryan sitting on his sofa with his head in his knees.  
"You alright there Ryan?" He asked, probably for about the fourth time that day. When he got no response, he gently shook Ryan's shoulder.  
"Ryan," he mumbled. Ryan still didn't answer. At this point, Brendon suddenly noticed that Ryan's head was still bleeding, and a lot more heavily than before. His dark hair was matted with the red substance, causing Brendon to (obviously) worry substantially. Being the worrier that he was, Brendon's mind jumped to the worst possible conclusion, that being that Ryan was dead. However, when he checked Ryan's pulse, he found he was very much alive, no matter how slow it may have been. Still, he had to call an ambulance. If not to help Ryan come around (Brendon had come to the conclusion that Ryan had passed out from blood loss - the only possible explanation) then to stop his head bleeding, probably what was worrying him the most at present. Brendon called for an ambulance.  
"Hello, what's your emergency?" A surprisingly cheerful voice rang out on the phone. Brendon answered calmly. If there was one thing his mum taught him, it was that, in any situation such as the one he was in, the best thing to do was to try to keep calm, no matter how hard that may be, because you're able to think more clearly that way.  
"I need an ambulance," he said, "my best friend fell and hit his head on the floor about ten, fifteen minutes ago, his head was - still is actually - bleeding, and now he's passed out." Brendon said, putting his hand in Ryan's hair, checking to see if he was still bleeding. He seemed to be.  
"Right, well is lying down?" The woman on the other end asked.  
"No, he's sitting up, I don't know how or why, with his head on his knees." He still remained relatively calm.  
"Right, well you should make sure he's lying down, it's better for him. We'll send an ambulance right away." He wanted to ask why it was better if Ryan was lying stretched out, but that didn't really matter. He gave the woman the address and hung up the phone. He did what the phone operator advised him to do and lay Ryan full length on his sofa and waited. Each minute passed by very slowly. Brendon checked Ryan's pulse again, mainly as a source of comfort, and noticed that his pulse had slowed even further. Eventually, the ambulance arrived outside Brendon's house and he thanked a god he didn't believe in that it had arrived quickly enough. The paramedics came into the house and carefully strapped Ryan onto a gurney and wheeled him into the back of the ambulance. Brendon followed and sat next to Ryan, gripping his hand the whole way.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan wakes up in hospital and gets some bad news when he gets home sometime later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate if anyone's reading this

Looking back on it, Brendon thought it was funny how quickly the day had changed. One minute he woke up in bed next to his best friend, the next he's in the back of an ambulance on the way to hospital with him. He had had to call Ryan's mum to inform her of what had happened, that being hard considering how panicked his mum can get about things. She'd been out of the room, incidentally, when Ryan woke up. Brendon was sitting next to him, still holding his hand lightly, and suddenly felt Ryan's hand squeeze his. Ryan's eyes fluttered open gently, something that Brendon had come to love over the years.  
"Hey. How're you feeling?" Brendon smiled, slightly relived that Ryan was awake.  
"Not great," Ryan mumbled, "my head really fucking hurts. What happened?"  
"You fell and hit your head on my bathroom floor, it bled a lot." Brendon said rather flatly. Ryan looked at him blankly. Before either of the boys could say anything more, Ryan's mum walked back in, causing the two of them to take their hands out of one another's. Ryan's mum always thought that he and Brendon were dating, but as much as he wanted it to happen, he knew it never would and didn't want to give his mother the wrong idea. His mum smiled widely when she saw him awake.  
"Hey! How do you feel?" She said with a slight hint of over-enthusiasm.  
"Shit," Ryan replied dully. He knew his mother well enough to know that if she got a full answer, she would, most likely, give an equally detailed, if not more so, answer back.  
"I'm not surprised," she said, taking a sip of a coffee that Ryan hadn't previously seen, "you've been under for four days." Four days? Ryan thought, how much fucking blood did I lose?  
"Not to worry though," she continued, "the doctors said that, once you woke up, you'd be able to go home the following day. They'd just have to keep you in overnight once more just to check you over and things. Anyway, I've left your father at home. And don't worry, Brendon told me what happened to save you the trouble. I don't want to leave him alone now. I tried talking to him, but you can imagine how that went. No, but I really should go now. Bye Ryan, love you." She left the room. Ryan could never forget about how genuinely hurt he felt when his mother told him he couldn't stay long because she didn't trust his father home alone with alcohol. It wasn't the not trusting part, Ryan had to say he fully agreed, it was the fact that she left in such a hurry after she'd seen he was awake, that was the part that hurt.  
"So..." Brendon's voice echoed in his ears, bringing him, once again, back to reality, "I'm sorry if you wanted to tell your mum yourself about your dad, but it just seemed easier to do that than let you do it." Ryan just looked at him.  
"That actually helped me a lot if I'm honest, thank you for doing that for me." Ryan smiled for the first time that day (admittedly it had only been about ten minutes that he had been awake for) which was something that Brendon had missed a lot.

A few minutes later, a doctor walked into the room.  
"Hello Ryan, my name is doctor Davis," she said, "you've been under for quite some time, I believe you may know that." Ryan nodded.  
"Well," she continued, "we thought about having you stay in again tonight, but you seem to have held up well enough and your head hasn't bled anymore, so we're discharging you."  
"Wait, you are?" Ryan asked, slightly bemused, "I thought you'd have to keep me in despite what state I was in..." the doctor looked at him,  
"Well, so did we but it seems we've deemed you strong enough to go home. Also, you're very lucky to have him," she said, referring to Brendon, "he hasn't left your bedside the entire time." And she left the room, leaving Brendon blushing in her wake.  
"Is that true, Bren?" Ryan asked.  
"Yeah," he said, "your mother couldn't stay very long because of your dad, so I stayed." Ryan smiled again.

Ryan was getting ready to leave when the same doctor from before walked back in the door.  
"There's something I forgot to mention to you before: when you fell, you managed to cut your head open pretty badly so your head has had to be stitched up, hence the bandage on your head," Ryan hadn't even noticed that and so absentmindedly reached up to touch it, "they're in the back of your head," she continued, "where the cut was. You can take it off when you get home but don't brush or comb your hair or even run your fingers through it for at least three days, that's how long the stitches take to disintegrate and the wound to fully close up. But that's all for now." She said it all somewhat cheerfully which surprised Ryan, considering the fact that this was a hospital. Still though, better than some moody old bag.  
"Thanks for everything," Ryan said.  
"No need," the doctor replied, "I'm just doing my job." Ryan smiled at her again and proceeded to leave the room, Brendon following close behind.  
"Take care, I hope I don't have to see you again." She smiled.  
"Thank you, I will do," Ryan replied.

Brendon drove Ryan back to his place because Ryan said he still didn't want to be around his father, to which Brendon said, unhelpfully,  
"You're going to have to face him sometime soon, y'know."  
"I know, but perhaps not best when I've just got out of hospital." Ryan replied, and the two of them said nothing the rest of the ride back.

As soon as they got in the house, Ryan went to the bathroom, being more careful this time, and took the bandage off his head, only to find that there was a somewhat bald patch on te back of his head where the stitches were. He tried his best not to touch them, but he couldn't help but be slightly disappointed at the fact that he now had a large, gaping hole in his hair. I guess it'll grow back in time, he thought. He headed back into the sitting room and sat down next to Brendon on the sofa. No sooner had he sat down that his phone started ringing. He looked, it was his mum again.  
"Hey mum," he said cheerfully into the phone.  
"Ryan, are you sitting down?" She asked, sounding tearful.  
"Yeah but - mum what's wrong? Why are you crying?" Ryan feared something was terribly wrong. His mum didn't usually cry easily.  
"It's your father," she cried, "he's dead."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan has just got the news his father has died

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is so bad

Ryan felt his world come crashing down all of a sudden. This couldn't be true, he can't have heard right.  
"I - what?" He stammered through the phone.  
"I got home and saw him there. The police came here and everything. They said it was alcohol poisoning." Alcohol poisoning. Those two words rang through his head, playing on repeat as if to taunt him.  
"I'm sorry honey, I have to go now. Your aunt Sarah is here with me so you stay with Brendon if it helps." She hung up. Ryan didn't even cry at first, he just felt a million miles away and completely frozen.  
"Ryan," Brendon said gently, "what's wrong?" Ryan suddenly broke. Loud sobs erupted from his mouth and he made a vain attempt to cover it.  
"My dad," he sobbed, "he's dead. Alcohol poisoning." He just about managed to choke out, before burying his face in his hands again.  
"Oh god, Ryan, I'm so sorry." Brendon said, wrapping his arms around Ryan, who buried his face into his friend's chest. The two stayed like that for what seemed like ages, neither of them saying anything. Finally Ryan's sobs died down until he was just sniffing quietly. Finally he lifted his head from Brendon's chest. His eyes were red and puffy and his face was wet with tears. He wiped his eyes with his sleeves and nothing, not even when Brendon wrapped an arm around his shoulders again, as he did whenever Ryan was upset, and rubbed his back comfortingly. Brendon said nothing, as there was nothing to be said, and Ryan continued to say nothing because he didn't know what to say. The pair sat like that for a while in silence, filled only with an occasional sniff coming from Ryan. It wasn't an awkward silence, the two of them were too close for anything to ever feel awkward between them, but it was nowhere near a comfortable silence by any means. They both wanted to break the silence, Ryan particularly, because he wanted a distraction, but he didn't actually know what to say, and Brendon didn't want to say anything himself because he felt it would've been better to let Ryan say something when he was ready. After a while, Ryan spoke.  
"I... I don't know what to say..." he said, barely audible.  
"It's okay, you don't need to say anything." Brendon replied just as quietly, continuing to rub his shoulders comfortingly.  
"It's just - I feel like this was my fault. If only I'd told my mum as soon as it happened, he might still be alive." Ryan's eyes filled up with tears again.  
"Hey, listen," Brendon said gently, "you can't blame yourself for this. This was nobody's fault, especially not yours." Brendon hugged Ryan. It was a slightly awkward side-hug, but it comforted Ryan nonetheless.

Sometime later, Ryan couldn't exactly place how much later, it suddenly hit him that there'd have to be a funeral, that he'd have to attend it and, most likely, have to say something. He was sitting on the sofa with Brendon still. Brendon had put on some stupid comedy movie in a vague attempt to try to cheer Ryan up a little. Or at least to take his mind off things.  
"I just realised, I'm gonna have to speak." Ryan mumbled at some point.  
"What?" Brendon asked, looking over at his friend, "speak when?"  
"At the funeral," Ryan answered, like a schoolchild answering a question in class, "he'd have wanted me to say something. He said that once. Something like 'if you don't speak at my funeral then I'll come back from the dead and haunt you forever'. He said it in a joking way, I think he was serious when he said he wanted me to speak." At this point, Ryan couldn't help the few tears that escaped his eyes, rolling silently down his face.  
"I'm sorry, I'm gonna go get a tissue," he half-whispered as he got up and left the room quickly, heading towards the bathroom.  
"It's okay, don't apologise." Brendon said, wondering why Ryan had firstly apologised for crying, and secondly needed a tissue this time when it hadn't bothered him at all before. A few minutes after Ryan had disappeared into the bathroom and still hadn't reappeared, Brendon decided to go and see if he was alright. As he approached the bathroom door, he heard quiet, muffled sobbing coming from within. He knocked on the door gently.  
"Ryan," he called his name softly. Ryan instantly stopped sniffing and replied:  
"I... I didn't know you were outside."  
"But why did you suddenly have to race in here?" Brendon asked, slightly concerned, "I mean, I understand if you want to be alone but..." he trailed off, "...you don't usually hide from me when you cry. I mean, you can tell me to fuck right off if you wanna be alone, but... I'm just concerned is all. You understand that, right?" The door suddenly unlocked, revealing a teary-eyed Ryan. He leaned forward and hugged Brendon tightly.  
"It's okay, I just - I feel like I'm being a burden on you. I know you'd always tell me otherwise, but I still feel like you wouldn't tell me if I was." Ryan sighed, causing Brendon to hug him more tightly.  
"You're never a burden, not when you cry - anything. And I mean it Ryan. You're my best friend." Ryan smiled slightly, despite the fact that there were still tears on his face.  
"But... there's something else..." Ryan said somewhat nervously.  
"What is it?" Brendon asked, pulling away and looking at Ryan straight on. Ryan looked down, seemingly nervous.  
"I... i just wondered..." Ryan started, "no, it's... it's stupid, never mind."  
"No, what was it Ryan? It won't be stupid." Brendon said. Ryan sighed.  
"Okay... I was wondering... would you mind coming with me to my dad's funeral? I know it's a lot to ask, but it's just... I don't think I can do it alone. I'm sorry, I just don't want to go alone." Ryan looked down again.  
"You won't be alone, you'll have your mum. Also, wouldn't I be imposing? I mean, of course I'll come if you want me to, but I just feel like I wouldn't be wanted there." Brendon said.  
"You - you will?" Ryan asked. Brendon nodded.  
"Thank you. It means a lot to me." Ryan smiled slightly. I love you, he wanted to say, but refrained himself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan's father's funeral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just don't know anymore

The days rolled by quickly enough and before Ryan knew it, it was his father's funeral, and it was safe to say that he wasn't prepared. If anything, he was terrified. He had written a speech, but no matter how many times he reread it and changed parts of it, he still couldn't make it sound good enough. Still, he thought, it'll have to do. Too late to change it now. 

He told his mum about him asking Brendon to come, and initially she was slightly offended that Ryan didn't feel that she was enough comfort for him, but in the end she came around. If Ryan felt that having his friend there would help him, she had no problem with that. Ryan still wasn't entirely convinced that she was happy enough with the idea though, to the point where he might've asked her a few too many times.  
"Mum, are you sure you're okay with Brendon coming today?" He asked for what must've been the tenth time, but his rule was that you can never be too sure when you ask people things.  
"I'm fine with it, okay? If that's what you want then I'm happy." She said reassuringly, which seemed to be enough for Ryan.  
"Come on, we gotta go," Ryan said nervously, grabbing his jacket off the coat hook. It was one that his father had bought him for his seventeenth birthday. It was a long black jacket that reached just above his hips, although it had got longer in more recent years because he was a lot skinnier than he had been when his father bough it for him, so now it reached just below his hips. Not a particularly significant difference, but a difference nonetheless. He and his mum left the house just as the hearse was arriving, a black car following it. It was the moment that Ryan saw his father's coffin that he suddenly had to race back inside, claiming he'd forgotten something. He ran into his bedroom and shut the door, leaning against it and sliding down slowly, his head in his hands. He sobbed loudly, uncaring of who heard him at this point. Looking back on it, he didn't know why he ran inside to cry when it was perfectly acceptable for one to cry at their father's funeral, it could just have been the pure fact that he didn't want to be the first one to cry. Or perhaps the fact that he didn't want to cry outside in the daylight where everyone would see. Whatever the reason, he decided not to dwell on it. It was pointless things in your life that you worried about the most, he thought. A couple of minutes later, his mother walked in.  
"Ryan?" She called, "have you got whatever you needed?" Ryan said nothing. He heard his mum make her way towards his bedroom. She knocked on the door.  
"Ryan," she said softly, just above a whisper, "I know you're in there. Come on, you can't stay in there all day."  
"Fucking hell mother," he said, the fact that he said 'mother' as opposed to 'mum' stressing the fact that he was annoyed, "I can't do this. I'm not ready." He said. Ryan's mum was beginning to get impatient.  
"Ryan Ross, don't be a child and come out now. I know you don't want to do this. Neither do I. But, for fuck's sake, Ryan, you're twenty-two years old now, you can't keep playing these stupid games." Ryan begrudgingly got up, like a teenager whose parents told them they had to stop playing their music so loudly because the neighbours will hear. He unlocked the door and his teary, red eyes met his mum's.  
"Oh, Ryan..." she said, before breaking down into tears herself.

The two of them eventually managed to get out of the house and into the car that would take them to the cemetery where Ryan's father was to be buried. Ryan's mother had to apologise profusely to the driver for keeping him waiting, although it seemed like he was used to this sort of thing.

The drive was long and torturous, made longer by the fact that the hearse wouldn't go over ten miles an hour. Okay, it was probably more than that, but that's what it felt like to Ryan. He couldn't look straight ahead because that way he'd see the coffin in the hearse again and he'd probably burst into tears again, he couldn't look at his mother for fear of them both crying or Ryan just simply having to say something to her, and he couldn't look out of the window because somehow everything, every small detail, seemed to remind him of his father. He ended up shutting his eyes for the duration of the journey, his mind wandering everywhere.

When they eventually arrived at the cemetery, Ryan was particularly reluctant to get out of the car, meaning he took extra long trying to find a set of house keys he hadn't even dropped. Eventually, after some mental debate with himself, he got out of the car, just in enough time to see the coffin being taken out of the hearse by his father's two brothers and two of the sons of one of them. They carried it over and put it gently on the ground, just next to the hole that the coffin was to be put in. Ryan was standing and watching this, not really knowing what to do with himself, when Brendon approached him.  
"Hey," he said softly.  
"Hi," Ryan said, seeming worried about something.  
"Are you okay?" Brendon asked, "sorry, probably a stupid question. I meant how are you holding up." Ryan said nothing and just hugged Brendon tightly, bursting into fresh tears which ran down down his face like waterfalls. Brendon started to stroke his hair softly in an attempt to comfort Ryan, something he had done a lot of over the past few days.  
"Come on, we'd better get going," Ryan said after a few minutes, "wait," he said suddenly, looking up, "I'm gonna have to speak later, can I just run it past you first?" He asked, slightly embarrassed for no reason.  
"Of course you can," Brendon said, and Ryan passed him a piece of paper that looked as though it had been folded multiple times. Brendon read it through and said:  
"Ryan, this is beautiful." Ryan just looked at Brendon.  
"I... really? You think so?" Ryan asked, slightly surprised.  
"Yeah Ry. It's great. I think you wrote it really nicely." Brendon replied. Ryan smiled slightly, despite everything.  
"We should head over now." Ryan said, his small momentary smile fading. Brendon nodded, and the two headed off towards where everyone was congregating.

The funeral procession actually started about ten minutes later, and Ryan was doing his best not to cry again. He stood, arms folded, next to Brendon, who kept shooting him worried glances. At one point, Brendon lightly tapped him on the arm, making Ryan look at him, and then rubbed his shoulder gently, causing Ryan to lean slightly towards him. After a while, the man who was 'leading' the funeral said:  
"And now we'll hear a few words from his son, Ryan." Upon hearing this, Ryan's eyes widened in fear. He couldn't do this, he wasn't ready. Brendon could obviously sense his fear somehow, because he took hold of Ryan's hand quickly and squeezed it reassuringly.  
"Go on, you can do this," he whispered in Ryan's ear. Ryan swallowed and walked up to the front. He placed his piece of paper on the stand at the front and took a deep breath.  
"Well, for all of you who knew my father, you'll have known he was an amazing man," Ryan began, "he'd always take a genuine interest in what I was doing, say at school, and he could listen to me talk about my day for hours and he'd never get bored." Ryan was struggling to hold back tears at this point, "I had many fond memories with my dad, so many that it would probably take too long to go through them all, but a particularly fond memory I have was when he and my mum and I were on holiday in Brazil one summer. We were on the beach, and a guy came up to us, speaking rapid Portuguese, none of which I could understand, but my dad started speaking back to him just as fluently as the man himself was. I know this probably doesn't sound like much, but I remember being very impressed by that, and when I asked him how he was so good at everything, he simply denied it, said anyone could be that way. That was something I greatly admired about him. He was so modest. He was a great man but yet never admitted it." Ryan was crying at this point, and decided he couldn't carry on.  
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, and raced back into the crowd.  
"That was so beautiful. You said that so nicely Ryan. He'd have been very proud of you." Brendon said, caressing his arm again.

After the funeral was over, a little reception thing was held in the park just next to it, and Ryan disappeared. Well, Brendon couldn't find him, but after a substantial amount of searching, he found Ryan sitting on a bench, just like he did that time that Ryan and his father had had that argument. Brendon sat next to him and said nothing, rubbing his hand gently on his back. Tears rolled silently down Ryan's face, as they had done many times over the past few days.  
"I know it's hard," Brendon said after a while, his voice low, "but it will get better, I promise." Ryan snorted.  
"Well it doesn't fucking feel like it," he wiped his eyes, but only succeeded in making more tears roll down his face. "The thing is, I never considered how much I would miss him when he died. Also, we had so many arguments in more recent years that you'd think I'd want him gone, but he's still my fucking father, for fucks sake." Ryan was full-on sobbing again at this point.  
"Hey, of course I'd expect you to miss him," Brendon said, mentally slapping himself when he realised that that was the wrong thing to say entirely. He wrapped both of his arms around Ryan so he was giving him a weird sort of side-hug. Ryan buried his face in Brendon's shoulder, something that he considered a source of comfort. When his sobs finally died down, he pulled away.  
"Thank you for being here today," he said, still sounding tearful, "you didn't have to but you came and it meant a lot to me."  
"You don't have to thank me. You're my best friend, that what I'm here for." Brendon said.  
"Well I mean it," Ryan said. Before Ryan could comprehend what was happening, Brendon leaned forwards and pressed his lips softly to Ryan's. It was short and soft, but passionate, and Ryan's mind was racing at a hundred miles an hour, yet no actual thoughts came into his head. Eventually they broke apart, Ryan smiling like an idiot the whole time.  
"I've been waiting to do that for years," he breathed.  
"Me too," Brendon said, smiling just as widely as Ryan, "I love you, Ryan Ross." That was when Ryan realised that Brendon was right, that things were going to get better, because Brendon loved him back. His best friend loved him back.  
"I love you too."


End file.
